


Still waters run deep

by prototyping



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I have so much epilogue headcanon gosh dang, Post-Canon, Spoilers, aka things I didn't understand until my third playthrough, background Alisha/Sorey, that's how I interpreted it at least so fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 22:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17537858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: He picked up the next unopened letter, flipping it over and checking the date written in the corner. Sure enough, it was exactly one month after the previous letter—in the one thousand and seventieth year of the Glenwood calendar.Over nine hundred years ago.[Sorey, Mikleo, and the memory of Alisha.]





	Still waters run deep

Sorey read the letter in his hands two more times. The penmanship was firm but elegant, the ink still dark from careful preservation as it filled the page in impressively straight lines. The parchment felt a little brittle between his fingers, not having aged quite as well, but he was careful as he refolded it and slipped it back into its envelope. The wax seal that he’d broken was marked with the crest of Hyland’s royal family, faded from what had once likely been a vibrant red to a pale pink.

About a dozen more similar envelopes, still sealed, were piled on his left. He placed this one on his right, among the several stacks of opened letters that now numbered in the hundreds and took up half his bed. Each and every one bore the same seal, the same simple address—only his name—and the same handwriting. There were also some small items strewn among them, mostly books, sitting atop remains of the protective wrapping he’d received them in.

He picked up the next unopened letter, flipping it over and checking the date written in the corner. Sure enough, it was exactly one month after the previous letter—in the one thousand and seventieth year of the Glenwood calendar.

Over nine hundred years ago.

He ran his thumb over the numbers, but lightly, as if afraid he might wipe them away. He stared at the seal, at the edges of the envelope waiting to be peeled back, but after a long pause he returned it to the unread pile with a quiet sigh. After a few seconds more he reclined to lie atop his comforter, arms folded beneath his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Sorey stayed like that for a while, turning over a lot of thoughts and almost as many feelings, until the sound of his door opening broke him from his daze. He turned his head to watch Mikleo step into view, lingering at the top of the small staircase with arms crossed.

“You’ve been at it for a few hours now.”

Sorey hummed. “There’s a lot to go through.”

“That’s your excuse, huh.” Mikleo smirked as he descended, and stopped at the foot of the bed as he scanned the mess of letters. Noticing the smaller pile, he inquired, “Taking a break?”

“...Yeah.”

The pause didn’t go unnoticed, nor the turn of Sorey’s gaze back to the ceiling, but Mikleo didn’t comment. He claimed a seat on the mattress corner, careful not to disturb the papers, and Sorey couldn’t help studying him for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few days. It was still a little jarring, how different his friend looked—or maybe it was how _similar_ he looked after so much reported time. His clothes and his hair were different, he had grown a couple inches taller, some inflections in his voice were at times a little deeper, and there was a hint of sharpness to his eyes and certain angles of his face that Sorey didn’t remember, a constant alertness in his posture and methodical awareness of his movements that the Mikleo in his memory had only occasionally shown. And yet, for all of that, it was undoubtedly the same seraph. Older but unaged, changed but still the same.

It all still felt a little unreal. Nearly a millennium, all in what had been the comparable blink of an eye to Sorey. He felt no different and Elysia looked much the same, as did their family; Mikleo could have said it had only been a few hours and it would almost be believable. While he had estimated that such a length of time might pass, Sorey never accounted for the almost hypnagogic tint that it would leave on everything.

“I hope you’ve been reading them in order,” Mikleo remarked with a sidelong glance.

“Oh, give me a break.” With a huff Sorey sat up, but his annoyed stare was half-hearted. “If you want me to say thanks for your organizational skills, then thanks for your organizational skills.” Curbing his joking tone, he said more seriously, “But really… I appreciate you collecting all these. I’m surprised they’re in such good condition.”

“Alisha was the one who made sure they got to me every month. But I will take credit for keeping them in shape,” Mikleo added, subtly preening despite his nonchalant tone. “It wasn’t too hard. I just kept them in a space where I could pull all the moisture from the air.”

He was clearly bragging, but Sorey was too curious to deny him the satisfaction of indulging his ego. “A suspended arte? Seriously? Where’d you learn that?”

“I made it.”

“No way!”

“Surely you didn’t think I just sat around all this time.”

“Well, no, but—still, that’s awesome! Man, I must have a ton of catching up to do.”

“Heh, good luck.”

Sorey wrinkled his nose, but his previous thoughts began trickling back in as his gaze fell on the letters again. He had a lot of questions—and while some answers likely lay in those untouched envelopes, he didn’t want to rush through them. Once he finished, that was it. Alisha’s story would be over. She would permanently take her place as a memory of the past, a reflection, a name, never again to offer anything new.

“Every month, huh,” he mused quietly.

Mikleo gave a light nod. “She never missed one. When she was younger, she’d come by Elysia to deliver it herself at every opportunity.”

_When she was younger._

“She mentioned that she stayed here sometimes. And that you showed her around the ruins.”

“She didn’t often have the opportunity to travel abroad outside of political matters. I just thought she might like the chance to study some history without any pressure,” Mikleo explained. It was his usual _don’t make a big deal out of it_ tone, and Sorey couldn’t resist pushing.

“That sure was nice of you.”

Mikleo met his grin with a flat look. That much, at least, hadn’t changed over the centuries. “It’s not like it was that far out of the way. And I’d been wanting to revisit, anyway, ever since Lailah mentioned it w—”

“Jeez, just admit it. You did something nice for someone because you wanted to, you dork.” Sorey started gathering up the open letters, straightening and arranging the haphazard piles he’d made. “Although you definitely have a soft spot for her,” he added casually without looking up. “You know, once you got over the fact that she was human.”

“I don’t have _soft spots._ ”

“Yeah? Then there’s something she has that I don’t, considering you’re a lot nicer to her than you ever were to me,” Sorey replied, his words just a couple notes shy of a sing-song tone.

“ _She_ wasn’t a hopelessly naive romantic with self-destructive tendencies,” Mikleo retorted, sounding huffy as he turned away again.

It was tempting to do something immature, like reach over and give that long ponytail of his a tug, but Sorey resisted the urge and only laughed. “Touché.”

As he sorted the envelopes by decades, he relented in his teasing. “She mentions you a lot,” he noted. “Sounds like you two really kept up with each other.”

“We all did,” said Mikleo simply. That seemed like an oddly deflective response, but Sorey attributed it to his lingering irritation and didn’t push.

He turned an envelope over in his hands distractedly, thinking over Alisha’s earlier letters. There had still been a lot to do after Heldalf’s demise; aside from continuously working towards full peace between the kingdoms, she had also paid frequent respects to the seraphim around Hyland, including Elysia, and assisted in purging the land of malevolence. At times her path had crossed with Rose’s, but as her resonance grew she was able to do more on her own.

There had been an extra letter one month, detailing her excitement on the discovery that she could finally, fully see seraphim even when outside of Rose’s domain, no pact needed. The words had practically radiated with her joy and Sorey found himself smiling the whole way through, imagining her beaming expression and cheerful voice.

After that, he had noticed, Mikleo came up in her letters often—more often than before, and more often than the rest of their mutual friends combined. Even when years passed and tales of their hellion-hunting faded from lack of necessity, Alisha still referred to him regularly and casually, as though they didn’t spend much time apart.

Sorey was glad for it, too. For all the confidence he’d had in his friends getting by without him, Mikleo and Alisha were the two most deserving of concern. Knowing they’d grown closer and supported each other was a comfort and a relief.

“It sounds like everything went really well for her,” said Sorey. “But I bet she left out a few things.”

“Nothing you wouldn’t expect, for the most part.” Mikleo turned back to face him properly. “And not much worth mentioning. There was the occasional hellion outbreak, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle. Politically, it took a long time for the last of the anti-peace extremists to go silent, and there were a few attempts on her life. She handled it as well as you’d expect,” he added with a crooked smile. It was amused, maybe even proud—a rare look for him, at least when it came to other people.

Sorey chuckled. “As unfazed as ever, huh.”

“You know it.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Sorey added, a little more quietly. “She got by alright. I knew she would.” He felt Mikleo watching him, but neither of them said anything for a short pause. “How was she…” Sorey hesitated, struggling first with his word choice and then with the effort to say them. “...later in life?”

“Happy.” Mikleo let that hang in the air for another few long seconds. “She had the people’s favor for decades, in both kingdoms. She was widely supported and well-loved. She ended up with a big family, too,” he added with another smile, but this one seemed… off, somehow. Or maybe Sorey imagined it. “I’m sure she mentioned it. Five children.”

Sorey nodded. “She said her oldest grandson became a Shepherd. How was he?”

“A lot like her. I traveled with him, actually.”

“Really? She didn’t mention that.”

“Well, I imagine she didn’t want to spoil my end of things. She has her story and I have mine.”

“And yours is gonna take a lot longer than a day to tell, huh?”

“There’s no rush.” Mikleo stood up, looking from the stacks of completed letters to the few still waiting to be read. His expression was difficult even for Sorey to decipher. “But you should finish her letters first. My story doesn’t really pick up until hers ends.” Noting, perhaps, some hesitation or reluctance in Sorey’s expression, Mikleo smiled as he shifted his weight. “Like I said, there’s no rush. You don’t have to do it tonight.”

Sorey nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just—a lot to take in, and I don’t want to just hurry through it.” He’d already taken this long because he’d stopped often to digest all the information, re-reading some of the longer or more detailed letters once or twice before moving on.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Mikleo chastised, but he did so in good humor. “I came here to ask if you wanted to go out for a bit, anyway. If you’re pulling an all-nighter, you should at least get something to eat first.”

It was as good an excuse as any. Sorey nodded and returned the smile. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Mikleo looked mildly surprised. “Wow. I figured you’d put up more of a fight than that.”

“Well, y’know.” Sorey stretched as he stood, stumbling a bit on his stiff legs but still flashing a teasing grin. “I know better than to disregard the wisdom of the elderly.”

Mikleo’s smile faded in record time. “You _do_ know you have no room to joke about my age when you’re just as old as I am, right?”

“Didn’t you always brag about being the older one when we were little?” Sorey cocked an eyebrow as he shrugged on his overshirt, and laughed when Mikleo all but grimaced. “You had to know I’d give you a hard time about it.”

“Ugh, you’re such a child.”

“That sure sounds like something an old man would say.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

Sorey didn’t get back to it for two more days. Much of that time was spent in the forest and ruins and even as far as Camlann, satiating more of his curiosity as to how much had changed. He’d always enjoyed pinpointing the cause—or causes—of weathering on architecture, and with nearly a thousand years of erosion, deposition, and general wear-and-tear to take into account, particularly in conjunction with the atmospheric changes that Maotelus’ cleansing had contributed, there was plenty to observe and study, particularly in and around the Mabinogio ruins.

The vast majority of that time was spent with Mikleo. Sometimes he traded comments and offered observations and brief stories, and at others just hung around without saying much, if anything.

Despite the passage of time and the age jokes that Sorey continued to make, Mikleo reminded him of their much younger days, back when he would tag along after Sorey before the two had even decided what they were doing that day. They stayed together just to be together and that was the feeling Sorey had now as he and his best friend drifted around the mountainside, at times without any particularly concrete goals or destinations. 

Two nights after he’d decided to stall reading the last of Alisha’s letters, Sorey headed back to his house with the intention of resuming the task. When asked if he wanted to come along, Mikleo shook his head. “I’ll talk to you after. Those letters are between you and her.”

It seemed like a weird thing to say, but Sorey only laughed with a “Well, okay” and decided not to question.

He gathered the last of the letters and sat by his fireplace.

Compared to her earlier messages, these weren’t as eventful. There was less talk of politics and malevolence and even Hyland in general, and more about the goings-on of her family and friends. Even though he’d never met them—and never would—Sorey felt as though he knew them personally after reading so much about their personalities and day-to-day lives. Alisha’s words were filled with love and respect, especially towards her children. She had nothing but warm words about her husband, as well, a strict but respectable and kindhearted man from Pendrago—but she spoke of his work more often than she did of him personally, Sorey noticed.

There were simple things, too, like how beautiful the sunset had been that day, or her spotting the first flowers of spring, or a good book she had read (and enclosed, in case he was interested) or a new recipe she had tried. Whereas the Alisha he had known was always looking forward, always in a rush, always acting, it seemed she had later learned to slow down and take in her surroundings, to appreciate the little things here and there more often. It made him happy to picture her that way, but it also hurt a little, forming a heavy weight in his chest that he couldn’t shake even when he took a break to walk around a bit.

That weight grew heavier still when he came to the final letter. It was attached with twine to a small, wrapped package, which was heavier than it looked. For a while Sorey only sat there, his eyes locked on his name on the front of the envelope: similar to all the others, but immediately and noticeably different. His chest throbbed again.

Rose, naturally, had been a lot simpler. There had been no letters, nothing left behind except a verbal message delivered through Mikleo: _We’ve all been working our butts off while you’re sleeping like a dog, you know? The world’s as awesome as we can make it, so you better do your part and help take care of it whenever you stop lazing around. But you always were bad at dividing the workload, so make sure Mikleo pulls his weight, too. And none of that beating-yourself-up crap, either! We all got by just fine. Keep your head on straight and your eyes forward, boss. Consider that my legacy or whatever._

It was very _Rose,_ just as these monthly, in-depth stories were so like Alisha. Both were bittersweet. Both made him wish there had been another way to settle things. Both threatened to make him regret.

That was why he stalled. That was why a part of him was admittedly afraid to reach the end.

But he owed them that, and so much more besides.

With slow but steady movements, he opened the envelope, and then the letter inside—only one page this time—and for now he set the package aside. Like the address on the envelope, the letter was different, but he put that thought aside and began to read.

_Sorey,_

_As always, I hope this letter finds you well. I’m afraid I don’t have much of interest to report this time, so I hope you will forgive the sentimental rambling of an old woman. Even if you aren’t here, I still find you as easy to speak to as ever._

_I hope that part of you never changes, Sorey. It’s odd to think about, but you are still so young, with so much life ahead of you. I know you will make the most of it, and I envy our seraph friends for being there to see what you choose to do with your future. But I am not sad. I am glad to know that you will have good friends, and family, waiting for you when you wake._

_I only hope that my actions have somehow contributed to that future, so that a part of me will be with you even when I am not._

_Forgive me, it is not my intention to sound so solemn. I’m afraid I’m very tired today, so I must be brief; but after so many letters I’m sure you know what to expect of me, anyway._

_Do you ever watch the sunrise, Sorey? I had the privilege of seeing it in Elysia a few times. I had no words for it then, and I still don’t. I think it was the beauty of the sky itself that captivated me so, but there was also something… unbelievable, almost, in thinking that one day you might stand in the same place and watch the same sun rise over the same mountain. Time goes on and so much stays the same even as life begins and grows and ends, again and again. I find it comforting, knowing that nature will always continue thus._

_You’re the one who taught me to appreciate such things. While I’m sure I cannot match your enthusiasm for history, I often find myself—these days, especially—appreciating all that our predecessors left us, and wondering if future generations will feel the same. At the very least, I know you and Mikleo will. That, too, is comforting._

_In that regard, if I may be so bold, I ask that you both be there for one another. I know it’s a silly thing to ask you two, of all people, but I will rest well knowing you have each other._

_I hope your days will be blessed with all the happiness that you so very deserve, and that you will continue to touch and brighten every life that you come into contact with, just as you touched and brightened mine._

_That goes for both of you._

_I know I have said this before, but please allow me to say it one more time: Thank you, for everything. I have never stopped thinking about either of you, and I consider us just as close as we have ever been._

_Thank you._

_Forever yours,  
Alisha_

Sorey wasn’t sure how many times he reread it. By the time he finally put it down, his lanterns were burning low and his eyes were sore—but those last few lines still bothered him. They were still out of place.

He rubbed his tired face as he leaned back against the wall. He was tempted to think he was reading too much into it, but after hundreds of letters and a condensed lifetime of acquainting himself with her all over again, he could tell when something didn’t fit. Those final words, addressed to both Mikleo and himself, as well as the other glaring detail he had noticed—his mind was leaning all the more steeply in the direction it had started to wander previously, but now he was certain he wasn’t imagining it.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until they hurt, until he saw stars, until there was another excuse for his flushed skin and the tears blurring his vision when he finally let his arms drop.

* * *

“Her final letter… It was in your handwriting.”

Mikleo’s shoulders tensed before relaxing just as quickly, a fleeting ripple in his otherwise stoic countenance. He didn’t answer for a few long beats, uncertain if one was expected, but when Sorey also remained silent he figured the question was unspoken.

“...Writing was hard for her at that point,” he replied at last, a little grimly. “She asked if I could do it. She thought I could fill in the blanks if… she couldn’t finish her thoughts.”

“Did you have to?” Sorey asked quietly.

Mikleo turned to meet his friend’s gaze. “...No. She held on just long enough.” With a soft exhale he looked away again, and _that_ memory, as old as it was, was still sharp and clear and bright. So, too, was the ache in his chest—and while time would normally smooth those sharp edges for others, his were as jagged as they had always been. He didn’t care that the small smile on his face was probably wistful. “She went the extra mile for you, Sorey. Always.”

It was Sorey’s turn to sigh, equally quiet—but then he hummed, a sound caught somewhere between content and sad. “Not just for me. She talked about you more than anyone. She was really, truly grateful, Mikleo, for everything you did… even if she couldn’t always say it. She knew how worked up you get about that sort of thing,” he added with a smile.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like she really needed my help most of the time,” Mikleo replied, ignoring that last bit. “She was always a bit overzealous with her praise.”

It was early in the morning, enough that the sky was still dark with only the faintest hint of light on the horizon. There was a chill in the air, as there often was at this time, but Sorey seemed unaffected in his short-sleeved shirt. He did look tired, especially around his eyes, but the kind look on his face was genuine.

Mikleo, in contrast, was fully dressed, having spent the early hours pacing Elysia’s perimeter as he often did. He’d eased up on the habit of sleeping in the last couple centuries and rarely felt the need for it anymore, even when physically exhausted; most nights were spent moving, or at the least keeping his hands and thoughts busy with reading or some other pastime. He was seated in the shadow of the village’s archway, looking out over the land below—or had been.

As Sorey stood beside him, hands casually perched on his hips as he also took in the view, Mikleo let his gaze wander to the side, away from him. He didn’t want to say anything yet, but at the same time he wasn’t sure if he should. He wanted to know how much Sorey had figured out, if anything, and whether it really mattered now, and what questions he had, although there were some that he was much less keen on answering.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Can I ask you something?”

There was just enough weight in the tone to imply that Sorey meant something personal, and enough hesitation in his demeanor to suggest it might not be any of his business. As close as the two of them were, Mikleo still paused before answering. “...What is it?”

“You took an oath, didn’t you?”

After a long moment, Mikleo slowly nodded. “I did.” That much didn’t seem to need an explanation, so he didn’t give one. Neither was he surprised that Sorey had picked up on it, nor that he chose to address it first.

“...I see.” Pause. “How many times have you served as a Sub Lord?”

Mikleo pretended not to be impressed by that sharp train of thought. “Including you? Three times.”

“One of those was Rose,” Sorey deduced. “I’m guessing the other was Alisha’s grandson. So... you’ve also acted as Prime Lord.” It wasn’t a question.

“Twice,” Mikleo confirmed. “To two more of her descendants through her other children. The most recent was almost two hundred years ago.”

This time Sorey did look taken aback. “You kept up with them for that long?”

Mikleo shrugged. “It’s not exactly difficult to track the royal family. Even the branch members.”

After a moment, Sorey gave a soft laugh under his breath. Mikleo immediately cocked his head with a narrow look. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” he pressed.

“Nothing,” Sorey repeated. “It’s just… you’ve... always been softer than you act.”

Mikleo’s eyes thinned even further before he abruptly glanced aside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was another amused exhale, but Sorey let it drop.

They looked out over the dark mountain range for a few minutes, but the expected question never came. Finally, Mikleo wondered, “You’re not going to ask what the oath is?”

“If you feel like sharing, you’ll tell me,” Sorey countered breezily. “If you don’t, well, that’s fine, too.”

Mikleo gave a soft snort. “Says my old vessel, and the only one I’ve casually given my Name to.”

“Those were different.” Sorey was serious again, his gaze level and firm when Mikleo looked up to meet it. “This was something you decided to do by yourself—not as my friend or ally. Telling me, or not telling me, doesn’t make us any better or worse than we are.” He said it firmly, but casually. There was zero thought behind his response, Mikleo knew—just pure, simple logic and respectful understanding spoken straight from his heart.

The seraph withheld a chuckle, but the low sound he made was amused. “...Hm. You really haven’t changed at all.”

“Well, it…” Sorey rubbed the back of his neck. “It really wasn’t that long to me, so…”

Mikleo gave a brief shake of his head. “It’s not that. I’d just wondered if being bonded so closely to Maotelus would have some kind of effect on you. But I’d say you’re the same mess that you always were.”

“Gee, _thanks,_ ” Sorey huffed, but there was enough of a smothered smile to say he knew what was being said.

That feeling of good humor hung in the air. Mikleo waited a couple minutes more before interrupting it. “It’s alright if you know,” he said coolly. He felt Sorey look at him, but he continued to stare straight ahead. “Actually… it might make things a little easier if you do.”

There was another pause, and then Sorey dropped to the grass beside him—and just waited.

Despite all the time he’d had to think up the words, Mikleo didn’t plan what he was going to say. There was no way _to_ say it, really, other than honestly—and no matter the words he chose, he knew Sorey would react the same way.

So he didn’t hesitate for long, and when he spoke, he chose to be blunt. “I guess you could say it’s an oath of regret. Normally, negative feelings fade as you cope and move on. Sometimes you forget them entirely.” His fist clenched loosely, briefly. “I can’t forget, and I can’t move on.”

The wind whistled around the mountain for a long, quiet minute. He could almost hear the gears turning in Sorey’s head. “What kind of oath is that?” Sorey wondered at last. “It sounds permanent. You can’t break the terms.”

“...I could. Theoretically speaking.” Mikleo didn’t explain; Sorey didn’t ask.

“Never moving on… That would mean… living with every pain you’d ever felt,” Sorey surmised slowly. “As if it just happened.” Mikleo didn’t reply, but that in itself was an answer. “And carrying that negativity, always.” He looked over sharply, but Mikleo didn’t budge. He wasn’t surprised to see his friend tense up. “But something like that… it would—”

“Make me more susceptible to malevolence,” said Mikleo calmly. “That’s true.”

“Why?” Sorey blurted, nearly cutting him off. “Why would you do something like that?”

“The harsher the restrictions, the greater the power granted.”

“But—”

“Lailah couldn’t be everywhere at once. Someone else needed to channel the power of purification.”

“So you took something like that upon yourself?” It was phrased like a question, but it wasn’t really. Sorey stared down at his lap, hands fisted on his knees. “Mikleo… I—”

“It had nothing to do with you.” This time Mikleo did meet his anxious gaze, his own still calm and collected. He knew what Sorey was thinking. “Even if you hadn’t been asleep, I took the oath long after your lifespan would have been over. And I’ve made it this far just fine. It all worked out.”

He wasn’t sure whether Sorey had winced just now, or it was just a trick of the shadows. They’d never talked about the difference in their mortalities before.

“But…”

“What’s done is done, Sorey. There’s no point dwelling on it.” The irony of that statement coming from himself didn’t go over his head.

Sorey made a low, dissatisfied sound in his throat, but he didn’t push. After a moment, he offered, “Still… I’m sorry. Maybe... there was another way, and I could’ve—”

“Don’t.” Mikleo’s tone gained an edge to it. “Everyone else accepted my choice.” Even if Edna had been more than a little irritated and had berated him, several times, for ignoring her advice. “If you really want to help me, then do the same.”

“I want to… but…” Sorey’s jaw clenched, his shoulders tight. He was taking this about as well as Mikleo had predicted.

Even after nine hundred years, Mikleo tended to keep his emotions close just as he had done as a child—maybe even more so now. It was rare for him to be… well, _soft_ , as Sorey had put it, especially since Alisha’s passing. But he could be, and Sorey was one of the few who could coax that part out of him, even—or especially—unintentionally.

Mikleo’s gaze returned to the horizon. “...That night in Lastonbell,” he murmured, “I didn’t object to your decision. I wanted to—I hated it—but I knew better. You would go through with it either way, and my objection would have only added to whatever negative feelings you were already carrying at the time. Instead, I trusted you to do what you thought was right for everyone, including yourself.” He paused, and then his voice softened. “So I know exactly how you feel, and how hard it is to accept this. But I’m asking you to move past it, and to show me the same respect that I did to you back then.”

Sorey didn’t answer for a few minutes.

“Heh…” His quiet chuckle was half-hearted, but he wore a crooked smile. “It’s weird hearing you sound so reasonable. I’m used to arguing everything with you.” He tilted his head back, closing his eyes with a low sigh. “But it’s hard to argue against that, I admit.”

“Things change,” Mikleo reasoned. Then, a little less seriously, “And we had to grow up sometime.”

“Yeah…” After another sigh, Sorey looked forward again, his expression less clouded. “I still don’t like it,” he murmured, “and it… might take me some time to accept. But…” He nodded lightly. “But I will. I’ll still stand by you—and your choice.”

“That’s good enough,” Mikleo assured him. “You don’t have to agree with me.” As long as Sorey respected his decision, that would make things a lot easier on both of them. Mikleo had dealt with worse pressures, but Sorey’s guilt and pity were a force that would only weigh heavier over time. It didn’t matter how long it took him to come around, as long as he was trying.

Even so, it wouldn’t hurt to try and help him understand it better.

“That day,” Mikleo went on after another considerate pause, “nine hundred and ten years ago—I lost a lot, Sorey. I let Muse sacrifice herself. I sacrificed Gramps. And I watched you go away.” Those were three of the hardest pains he still had to deal with. As much as outliving Rose had stung and losing Alisha—twice—had cut him deeply in a different way, those had been no one’s fault, with no room for Mikleo to regret much more than he did. These, however… They had always posed the highest risk of twisting his heart and weakening his conviction.

“Each loss made me wonder if I should have done something different,” he admitted, “whether I’d tried hard enough for the right answer. And I knew… if I didn’t break that day, then I probably never would.” He exhaled quietly, his frown firm, but not necessarily sad. Those bitter memories were simply part of who he was now, who he had been for centuries. Like an old scar that refused to heal, he acknowledged the pain, and he acknowledged there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

And yet… he was glad for it, in a way. If those old aches ever dulled, wouldn’t that mean he had stopped caring for the people in question? Wouldn’t _moving on_ imply that he was leaving their memories to the past, abandoning his duty as son and brother to keep those individuals alive in the only way he could?

If apathy was the alternative, heartache didn’t seem so bad.

Such was the train of thought that helped keep his head on straight and his soul untainted.

“That’s why… I thought the terms of the oath were fitting,” he continued, still in the same calm voice. “Not because I was used to it, or I thought it would be easy… but because that just seems to be my role.”

Sorey finally spoke up to wonder, “Regretting?”

“Remembering. Carrying on what others can’t, and upholding their dreams and beliefs in their absence.”

Dropping his head, Sorey breathed a soundless laugh. He’d caught the irony instantly. “ _Luzrov Rulay,_ ” he mused.

The words hung in the still air for a few beats. Even now, as old as he was, Mikleo still found such an informal use of his Name a little strange. It had been recited countless times by his chosen Shepherds and their Squires, but for the most part he only ever remembered Sorey using it in casual speech.

Alisha had been an exception late one night, nine centuries ago.

Having explained this much, Mikleo decided to fill in the last few blanks while he was at it. “And I did consider the risks. After making the oath, I stayed here in Elysia for a long time. I didn’t want to chance unnecessary exposure until I knew what I was dealing with. When I did venture out again, I used vessels, and I was mindful of how long I was away. Even now, I don’t think I’ve become complacent at all.”

“No,” said Sorey firmly, “I’m sure you’ve handled it just fine. I didn’t mean to sound as though I don’t trust you.”

Mikleo shrugged again. “It’s an understandable concern. But if nothing else, just be glad I’m not like you.” His smirk returned. “I don’t let my emotions run wild, or dictate my actions on a whim. I knew myself well enough to figure out what I could and couldn’t handle.”

Sorey gave a soft, amused snort. “Fair enough.”

By now the sky was turning from pink to orange as the sun continued to climb. The two of them sat a while longer in comfortable silence—still with a lot unsaid, but for now content with what was past.

When Sorey cleared his throat, and then stalled a few more beats before speaking, Mikleo knew what was coming next.

“So, uh… I was gonna ask you something else, but… if you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to.” He glanced over, but Mikleo made neither reply nor objection. “I could be _way_ off with this, but… were you and Alisha… er… involved? With each other? As in… I know you worked together a lot, but I mean…” He trailed off, watching Mikleo cautiously, as if expecting an outburst. Once upon a time there would have been.

But now Mikleo only looked out to the brightening horizon again, unfazed by the clumsy question. “...It’s always hard to predict what you’ll catch,” he mused.

“Hey! What’s that mean?”

Mikleo arched an eyebrow. “It means you’re you.”

“Wow, that helps.”

That prompted a chuckle, but then Mikleo decided to be direct. It had been a long time since he’d talked about Alisha with anyone; it was odd, revisiting the memories with someone else, but he had always anticipated doing so with Sorey.

“Yes and no,” he said after a moment. “It wasn’t anything… significant, really. There was some interest, but… I couldn’t give her what she needed. And she had other obligations, besides.”

_And she never did get over you._

Alisha could shoulder every other responsibility in the world, but that pain, that loss, had stuck with her and whittled away at her to her dying day. She didn’t need to say it; Mikleo saw it in her eyes all the time. More than once he had worried that her letters were only keeping the ache fresh, but she was strong—she had lived her life even beneath that shadow, happy and confident but for that one regret. It hadn’t ruined her life by any means, and he liked to think that it had made her stronger. Perhaps that was wishful thinking.

And they had both been in vulnerable positions all those years ago. Alisha having lost the closest friend she’d ever made and lamenting not speaking her feelings louder; Mikleo mourning not just one, but _three_ members of his family that he bore responsibility for. It was natural, maybe, that they had gravitated towards each other, seeking solace in one another’s familiar plight. It started out as keeping busy with work together, peaked one night when comfort was found in each other’s arms rather than words, and faded a few months later when Mikleo chose to put her happiness before his own.

The answer Alisha had found for herself wasn’t without cost. Politician, councilor, ambassador, and soldier—she was a public leader and international figurehead, and human society had many expectations. A single marriage between nations could lead to unity; refusing prominent suitors, multiple times, with no explanation and in spite of her advisors’ urgings, was bad for her reputation and Hyland’s tentative relations.

Their worlds were too different. He didn’t exist to most of her people, nor could he give her an heir. It wasn’t meant to be for a number of reasons.

All the same, he didn’t regret feeling the way he had—the way he _still_ did. He was just eternally grateful that the two of them had bounced back from their brief passion, remaining good friends and confidants for the rest of her life.

But so it was that not _every_ negative feeling tethered to his oath was the result of someone’s death.

“...I’m sorry,” said Sorey at length. That statement was surprisingly heavy, as though he’d picked up on what Mikleo didn’t say. Or perhaps he had understood that dual message in Alisha’s last letter, her promise to them both. “I shouldn’t have teased you about her before.”

“Don’t worry about it. It helps, actually—being able to have a casual conversation about her. I’ve lived off the good memories for this long, but... there’s only so much I can do by myself.”

“Hm…” Sorey probably tried to hide his troubled frown, but Mikleo caught it and shook his head.

“I’ll be alright, Sorey. It’s been a long time; I know how it goes by now.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you do.” Sorey smiled, but Mikleo knew when it was a forced look. Maybe Sorey didn’t entirely believe him; maybe he would just worry no matter what; or maybe he was thinking less about Alisha’s passing and more about what the future would bring.

Mikleo had thought of that, too, and for now he was content to just put it out of mind. That was all he _could_ do.

He thought that might be the end of that topic, but then Sorey reached behind himself and a moment later produced a familiar sight: Alisha’s personal knife. He still remembered wrapping it along with that final letter; rather, he remembered holding and gently guiding Alisha’s weak hands to help her do it.

“I feel like this should go to you,” Sorey admitted. “You’re the one who was there for—”

“She left it for you, no one else,” Mikleo interrupted. “That was…” He hesitated, but then pushed on, “Her request that I get it to you safely was one of the last things she said to me.” He wished he could smile despite the ache in his chest right then, to pass it off as a fond memory more than a painful one, but even nine hundred years could do nothing against the potency of an oath. Or perhaps it would have hurt this much even without it.

Sorey’s fingers tightened over the hilt. He nodded.

Perhaps it was just the morning light breaking over the mountainside, the chill of morning fading, but Mikleo thought the air seemed clearer. He felt content after their conversation, much more than he would have imagined.

“I’m… not a _total_ idiot, you know,” said Sorey suddenly. “I knew how she felt back then. About me.” He ignored his friend’s surprised glance. “It just… didn’t change anything. It couldn’t.”

The urge was there to tease him— _Seriously? I thought for sure that went over your thick head._ —but the mood, while peaceful, didn’t quite call for it.

“Actually… at first I thought you were being a little selfish back then,” Mikleo admitted. “It took me a long time to understand. You were actually protecting her—and your answer.”

Sorey nodded lightly. “If I was stronger, maybe I could have seen her one more time, but… I was already prepared to lose all of you, and to leave everyone else behind. I couldn’t… risk…anymore regrets at the end.” He turned the blade over in his fingers slowly. “I don’t know if that was the right thing to do. I’m not proud of it either way.”

Mikleo smiled sadly, sympathetically, but it was more at himself. Sorey probably understood his oath better than anyone; maybe that was why he was making this confession. Or maybe admitting his regret to someone who had loved Alisha when he couldn’t was his way of grasping for amends. Either way, Mikleo felt for him.

“It worked out,” Mikleo assured him. “You did what you had to do, and so did she. You won’t help yourself by dwelling on it.”

“I know.” Sorey tapped the hilt against his knee, antsy but silent.

_It just… didn’t change anything._

Except it had. It had changed Mikleo’s life forever—those few months with Alisha, now as fleeting as a snap of his fingers in his memory, had marked him for eternity in both the best and worst of ways. He might have been her second choice—there was never any doubt of that in his mind, no matter how warm and loving she was—but he had long since accepted it. She was worth more than his pride.

“Mikleo.”

Sorey’s open, earnest expression was so familiar, so _him_ that it, too, almost hurt.

“Thanks. For making sure she finished her story. And... for taking care of her.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do it for you,” Mikleo pointed out, but Sorey only broke into a smile.

“I know. Thanks for that, too.”

As well as they knew each other, Mikleo needed no clarification on his meaning. All the same, he hummed as he shook his head. “You’re as weird as ever.”

They both laughed. For the first time in a _long_ while, everything felt right again. Not perfect, not pain-free, but _right_ —Mikleo was no longer waiting or searching or wondering, no longer running in place as he looked forward or back. He was in the present now; not forgetting the past or disregarding the future, but content to set them aside, accepting them without drowning in them.

For the first time in centuries, he felt _still_.

The sun finally, fully broke over the horizon, heralding the morning proper.

Mikleo had lived a long life. In spite of his good memory, there were still a lot of things he couldn’t remember from his younger years while other stuck out to him clear as day, his oath aside. One such memory was a morning much like this one: warmer, but with the same purple-pink hues flaring into orange, and then yellow, throwing a dazzling golden brilliance over the world below as he beheld it for the first time—he and Sorey both, their hearts pounding and their hopes high.

And then there was another: sitting here beneath the gateway, just like this, watching the dawn rear its sleepy head as slowly as though it had all the time in the world—a feeling he now knew well. But it had been Alisha beside him then, seated close enough for him to feel her warmth and appreciate the way the sunlight made her skin glow and her eyes shine.

_Time goes on and so much stays the same even as life begins and grows and ends, again and again._

So it did.

For the first time that he could remember, Mikleo was, for now, at peace with knowing that.


End file.
